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He nodded. Bold with a serious case of nerves. And she’d chosen him for her first time. Why? he wondered. His eyes dropped south. They’d get back to the whys. Right now, he wanted to get her naked. But first she had a list of reasons. Hunter grinned. Little Miss Maggie was both beautiful and amusing. For a woman like her, he could afford a little patience. “And reason number two?”
She pursed her full lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth. The sight of her nipples had attracted his interest, but her mouth? The thought of those pink lips touching him went straight to his groin. Hunter reached for his pint glass.
“I’m trying to decide what I need to know about you before we end up in bed together.”
He coughed and sputtered, nearly covering the front of her shirt with the remains of his beer. Once he’d regained his composure somewhat—his dick was harder than ever—he pushed back from the table. “You think about that and I’ll get us another round. What are you drinking?”
“Water.”
Hunter sidled up to the bar, ordered two waters and paid for the earlier beers with Riley’s cash. He’d found the perfect woman, or rather she’d found him—easy on the budget and eager to jump into bed with him. He’d met more women than he could count who swore up and down they did not want a relationship, but brazen-yet-sometimes-shy Maggie was the first he suspected who might mean exactly what she said.
The bartender placed two glasses and a stack of singles in front of him. Hunter took the hint and left a big tip. It was easy to be generous with Riley’s cash. Once he got Sierra out of rehab and employed—God help him—he could afford to drop large tips with his own money. Pushing the less-than-pleasant thoughts away, he went back to the table.
“Your water, Miss Maggie.” He slid the glass in front of her.
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Thank you.”
He picked up his chair and flipped it around. Straddling the seat, his arms resting on the low wooden back, he asked, “So, what would you like to know?”
She stared down at the table a moment then asked, “Do you live around here, or are you just visiting?”
He’d never had the luxury of honestly and openly interrogating the women he met, but if he’d been in her shoes he would have asked the same thing. His gaze ran down her jeans-clad legs—not long, but a good fit for her height—and landed on her lofty heels. Okay, so bacon might sprout wings before he’d wear those supersexy shiny white things, but it was still a good question. “Just visiting. A work thing next week.”
A hint of a smile flashed across her face and her stick-straight posture eased. Relief, he guessed. He waited for her to ask him where he was from, how long he’d been in the army or what exactly he did, which he couldn’t tell her, but Miss Maggie didn’t say a word. “Anything else?”
She drew a deep breath and stared at her water. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he’d read her wrong. He couldn’t tell if she was gathering up the courage to ask another question or run away.
Just when he thought she might ditch her heels and sprint to the exit, she looked him straight in the eye. “No more questions.”
How close is your bed? He kept his mouth shut, waiting for a better response to pop into his brain. Problem was, his brain wasn’t doing the thinking anymore.
“But,” she continued.
God help him, there was a but. He reached for his water and brought the glass to his lips, hoping it would take the edge off the get-her-naked-now feeling pulsing through him.
“I need to make sure we’re on the same page here.” She looked him straight in the eyes, as if she were about to reveal weapon launch codes. “I want an amazing orgasm. Actually, scratch that. I want more than one. So if you don’t think you can deliver, or if you’re looking for more than one night, I’ll thank you for the drink and leave. Because I really need those orgasms.”
He could have sworn he was dreaming. In his wildest fantasies, he’d never imagined he’d meet someone like her. A woman who demanded orgasms, lots of them, without commitment.
Could he deliver? Hunter set the nearly empty glass back on the table. “Honey, I’m your man.”
3
THE PLAN HAD WORKED. Hunter Cross, the man with the bedroom eyes, was looking at her as if he couldn’t wait to tear her clothes off. She could tell from the tension in his body that he was ready to jump up from the table. He’d just drenched the front of his clothes and he didn’t seem to give a damn. That’s what she wanted, a man who cared more about her pleasure than his own comfort.
A rush of excitement washed over her, leaving her skin tingling, waiting to be touched. The feeling took her by surprise. It had been so long since she’d felt that first spark that she barely recognized it. This is what I’ve been looking for, she thought.
“But first, I have a few things I need to know about you before I get into bed with you,” he said calmly.
Or maybe not. He didn’t sound like a man blinded by lust. Maybe she was so desperate for a wild night in bed with a man who made her breasts ache to be touched that she’d imagined his interest.
Her stomach flipped and she reached for her drink, needing to hold something. Why had she picked the most handsome man in the tent, maybe in the entire state of New York, for her conquest? And why hadn’t she started with a normal conversation? She could have asked him what he did in the army, or where he was from. Instead, she’d demanded an orgasm.
Her finger traced the rim of her water glass. Maybe she should run away now and spare herself any further embarrassment. She could stop on her way home and buy a vibrator. Throw in a cinnamon bun and that might be all the wild and crazy she needed in her life right now.
Except her fantasies didn’t involve batteries.
“What would you like to know?” She tried to sound casual, which was hard given she’d whispered the words.
“Do you live around here?”
She looked up at him and felt her building sense of oh-God-what-have-I-done fade away. His George Clooney eyes said I want you, while the laugh lines around his mouth indicated he wanted to play a bit first.
She couldn’t feel the vodka anymore, but her sense of daring, the one that had driven her to wear the skinny jeans even though she’d sworn she’d wait until she lost a few pounds, returned. She leaned forward, watching his gaze fall to her chest. “Yes. About twenty minutes away.”
“Favorite color?” His eyes never left her breasts.
Maggie set her water on the table and leaned back, clasping her hands behind her chair as she pretended to consider his question. Her cotton shirt pulled tight against her nipples and she swore she heard him mumble a curse. “Green.”
“Favorite food?” he asked, his voice low.
“Linguine Alfredo.” Most of which went straight to her thighs. But she didn’t give a damn about that right now. All she cared about was his eyes on her chest and the warm rush it sent down her body. If he didn’t hurry up with his questions, she might explode right now before he even touched her.
He drew his dreamy gaze up to her face. His eyes locked with hers. “Where do you like to be kissed?”
“Everywhere,” she whispered.
“Be specific,” he demanded.
“The back of my neck.”
He nodded. “A good place to start.”
The nerves on her neck tingled in anticipation, and lower down her body ached. How had he pushed her so close to the edge of an orgasm without even making contact?
“One last question.”
She nodded.
“Do you like...”
He paused and Maggie leaned toward him, drawn by the unbelievably sexy sound of his voice.
“Nachos?” he asked.
Maggie blinked, falling back in her chair.
“You know, chips drowning in fake cheese?” He smiled. “I thought we might go for a walk around the grounds before we started working on your orgasms. I remember seeing a nacho stand near the picnic tables.”
Oh, you’ve already started working. Her body hummed with anticipation. Between his eyes, his body and his enticing voice, this man could probably seduce just about any woman. Talk about finding a one-night stand with experience.
“Sure,” she said.
“Great. I like a girl who isn’t afraid to eat fake cheese.” Hunter pushed himself out of the chair in one fluid move. He reached for her hand and drew her up. Wobbling on her heels, Maggie held on tight when he began to release her. She curled her fingers around his much larger ones, enjoying the feel of his strong grip. Her own hand seemed delicate by comparison. So what if he was a soldier? If the old saying about a man’s hands offered any indication of what waited for her in his pants, this man’s equipment would deliver.
He led her through the exit into the hot, summer night. The sound of voices, mostly male, and engine parts filled the air, both men and parts still visible in the bright evening sunlight. Seven o’clock, give or take a few minutes, in the evening on a July night in upstate New York. It would stay light until nine—perfect for a car show, but not so great for her courage.
Away from the dimly lit tent, reality came crashing down. What was she doing wandering off with a virtual stranger? What if he was some kind of psychopath? He’d admitted he was a soldier and Maggie knew from personal experience that some of the men who returned from war zones had...problems.
She pulled free from his grasp, pretending she needed both hands to shield her eyes from the sun.
“I left my sunglasses in the car,” she mumbled.
Hunter nodded and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans. “The nacho stand is just beyond the hubcaps.”
Nachos. They weren’t hopping into bed yet, just grabbing a bite to eat. If he turned out to be crazy, she could ditch him and race back to her car. Not that she’d be able to figure out if he was an ax murderer over chips, but she could ask a few more questions.
Falling into step beside him, she said, “So what do you do in the army?”
“Honestly—” he looked down at her with an apologetic half smile “—I can’t tell you much.”
“Top secret missions?”
“Something like that.” He led her up to a red-and-white stand with signs for hot dogs, nachos and cotton candy. “I’m a Ranger, part of the Special Forces, and our missions are classified. My teammates can’t even tell their wives and girlfriends, not that many of the guys are married, about what we do and where we go.”
A Ranger. Like her father. Like the men in Tennessee she planned to interview for her book. Maggie froze, every muscle in her body tensing. The tingling feeling in her breasts? It vanished.
She took a step back and then stopped. The part of her that craved an orgasm from a toned man with big hands and bedroom eyes told her to stay. For the first time in as long as she could recall, the need for an orgasm, the desire to shove her responsibility aside for twelve blissful hours trumped the warning bells.
“What can I get you?” the man behind the counter asked.
Hunter stepped up and Maggie followed. This wasn’t about forever. She could pretend he was an ordinary foot soldier if she wanted. The fact he was a Ranger wouldn’t matter in the morning and it certainly wouldn’t change anything once they took off their clothes.
“Nachos,” Hunter replied. “Extra cheese.”
“So you came for the food?” she asked lightly, turning the conversation away from his military career.
Hunter accepted a to-go container piled high with cheese-covered chips, paid the vendor and led her to an empty picnic table. “Nope, the food is a bonus. My buddy needed to pick up a few parts for his wife’s pickup.”
“Not into trading car parts?” She slid onto the bench.
“My truck could use a tune-up, but I’m not the man for the job. What I said before about changing a tire? That’s about the extent of my mechanic skills.”
“Well, you’re a step ahead of me. Every time I get a flat, I have to call for help.” She reached for a chip to keep her nervous hands busy.
“Is that why you were looking for a mechanic tonight?” he asked. “Need someone to call next time you have a blowout on the highway?”
Underneath the table, his leg brushed up against hers. He moved away, suggesting the touch had been an accident, but Maggie felt a rush of heat just the same, running up her calf past her thigh to her core. If he left her this turned on with an accidental touch, what would happen when he ran his palms over her bare skin? Her gaze fell to his large, capable hands, moving up his forearms to where his biceps disappeared beneath his shirt. In her imagination, his shirt vanished, allowing her to feast on his chest, over his sculpted abs and lower...
Her nipples peaked harder at the mental picture.
“Nope. You’re just what I was looking for,” she said. Was it her imagination or did her voice sound sultry? Maybe even a little seductive? All from one brush of his leg.
“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes now. He’d been staring at her breasts and they both knew it. Was he mentally undressing her? Picturing what lay beneath her green shirt? Maggie shifted on the bench, her body desperate to move, to touch and be touched. Across the table, Hunter held her gaze the way a soon-to-be lover would—with intent.
Maggie stared back, noting the golden flecks in the rich brown of his eyes. Her lips parted as if they had an inkling of what he wanted to do. Would he kiss her? Tear off her clothes and take her right here, right now, bending her over the picnic table?
She blinked and looked away, the image too hot to handle over nachos. Was she ready to move beyond chitchat and accidental touches? The new Maggie cried yes, but not here. Not yet. One kiss from this man would lead somewhere, and she didn’t want their first round to be in the backseat of a Toyota at the fairgrounds. Definitely not part of her fantasy.
“So you’re Special Forces and all you can do is change a tire?” she asked, trying to shift the mood before she reconsidered her position on backseat sex.
“You didn’t hear this from me, but over the years I might have learned how to hot-wire a car.” He used one chip to scoop up a pile of loose cheese. She followed the movement of his hand to his mouth. How would those lips feel against her skin, trailing kisses up her inner thighs, lingering over the place that was pushing her closer and closer to saying forget the chips and take me to bed, right now?
Not yet, she reminded herself. Forcing aside the image of hot kisses, Maggie pointed to a table full of knobs and pipes. “But you couldn’t tell me what those are?”
He finished chewing and raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to talk about car parts?”
His leg pressed up against hers, and this time it stayed there. Definitely not an accident. It was as if he couldn’t sit across from her and not touch her. It should have made her nervous, the clear, physical signal that this man wanted her. But it didn’t. Instead, excitement and anticipation flooded her body to the point where she could barely remember what they’d been talking about.
Car parts. He’d asked if she wanted to discuss car parts. The answer was no. But—
“What do you suggest?” she asked.
“Now that we’ve eaten, I’m ready to start thinking about those orgasms you asked for. Unless you need more time. We can take a walk around and peruse the merchandise. But I had to say something. It was starting to feel like the elephant at the table. I keep trying for small talk, but the O word is front and center in my mind.”
“That’s my fault.” She clasped her hands together on the table. “I’m bad at this, and I should never have been so direct.”
“Hey, I liked your approach.” Hunter reached out and rested one of his large hands on top of hers. It was an intimate gesture, but it felt right. More than right, it felt good. Reassuring. “It was a first for me, but a welcome break from most boring getting-to-know-you conversations.”
“So you’ve had a lot of experience with this? With one-night stands?”
“A time or two.” He shrugged. “I’m one of those guys who run away from romantic commitment. But orgasms? Those I can deliver. But first...”
His voice trailed off as he rose slightly, reaching across the table with his free hand.
“What?” she asked.
“You have some cheese on your cheek.”
Cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand, he swept his thumb over her face, gently brushing the corner of her lips. Maggie hadn’t learned much about men growing up, but she recognized the soft stroke against her skin for what it was. It had nothing to do with fake cheese. This man wanted to claim her.
He returned for a second sweep, this time running over the full width of her lips. She leaned into his touch, relishing the warm sensation between her legs. She parted her lips and allowed her tongue to dart out and lick the cheese off his hand. Then, in a move the old Maggie would never have considered, she captured his thumb between her lips and gently drew it into her mouth, sucking lightly. His smile widened, suggesting he liked her bold response to his simple touch. She ran her tongue up and down his thumb the way she longed to lick another part of his anatomy.
Hunter let out a low moan. No doubt he’d understood her unspoken message loud and clear. She didn’t want to be the only one enjoying orgasms tonight.
“Maggie.” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper, his eyes locked with hers.
That one word, her name, made the sizzling heat between them jump from an I-think-I-want-you eight to an I-must-have-you eleven. Forget sex in the backseat of her car. If one of them didn’t pull away soon, they might be heading toward sex on the picnic table after all.
